


let me know that it’s not all in my mind

by tmylm



Series: it's all me, just don't go [2]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Pitch Perfect 3, Post-Pitch Perfect 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: Part 2/3 of my PP3 fix-it ending. Instalment based onthis gif set.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: it's all me, just don't go [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745302
Comments: 28
Kudos: 81





	let me know that it’s not all in my mind

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Taylor Swift's _Everything Has Changed_.

This is not a new thing for Beca; lying awake late at night. Truth be told, she really hasn’t gotten any normal amount of sleep over the last two weeks. At least, not any _healthy_ amount.

Not since the end of the USO tour.

Not since Chloe left.

And Beca understands her leaving, she does. She just...God, she wishes she had done more to stop her.

* * *

_**TWO WEEKS EARLIER…** _

Considering she and Chloe have shared a bed for the better part of a year now, it is not unfamiliar territory for Beca to wake with an arm draped lazily across her middle. Chloe is a handsy person, she doesn’t think too much about personal space, and at this point, Beca doesn’t mind it. In fact, despite how unaffectionate Beca may be herself, she has never minded Chloe’s level of handsy.

However, as she slowly blinks herself to wakefulness, Beca is overcome by the feeling that something is different this morning. It takes her a moment to register exactly what it is, but when the memory hits her, it does so like a ton of bricks.

Beca had not been drunk, but the kisses shared between she and Chloe last night, the ones that’d ultimately led them to falling asleep in one another’s protective arms, had been highly intoxicating in their own way, and now Beca has to deal with the unforgiving hangover.

The hand resting against her stomach, fingertips lightly touching the bare skin beneath the fabric of Beca’s slightly risen shirt, is unmistakably Chloe’s, and something about the sight terrifies Beca to her core.

It is stupid really; Beca has wanted to be close to Chloe for so long. She has wanted to kiss Chloe, to show her exactly how she feels about her, exactly the way she did last night. But now that it has happened, now they are in this position, Beca cannot help but feel like it is somehow wrong. Later, she will realize those reservations stem from years of pushing away her feelings, of forcing herself not to act on her natural desires.

For now, though, Beca cannot process rationally, and as she feels Chloe begin to stir, feels those first signs of morning consciousness rousing within her through the feeling of her fingertips twitching and stretching against Beca’s stomach, her heart jumps wildly into her throat.

Instinctively, Beca turns her head to glance over her shoulder, worried gaze meeting the sleepy one drifting her way.

It is really not out of character for Beca to freak out, so Chloe doesn’t seem too concerned. She does, however, slowly move her hand away. The mattress dips slightly beneath the way she rolls steadily onto her back. “Good morning,” Chloe says in a croaky voice, evidence of sleep still lingering in her tone.

Beca does not respond. Instead, she just nods her head shortly in acknowledgment, and the expression to crease its way across Chloe’s face in response is a somewhat sympathetic one. Slowly, Chloe lets out a small exhale through her nose, gaze now up on the ceiling. “We don’t have to talk about it,” she assures in a gentle tone. “I mean, at some point...but right now, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Beca responds a little too easily, a little too defensively.

Her worried gaze remains trained on Chloe, who can evidently see her from the corner of her eye. Beca notes the way the corner of Chloe’s lip twitches up into a half smile, though there is an unmistakable sadness glistening in her eyes.

“Okay,” Chloe murmurs, pausing only briefly, before finally pushing herself up from the double bed. Beca just stares, just watches as Chloe peels herself from the mattress and heads toward the adjoining bathroom. It is so typically Beca to make things awkward already. She wishes it wasn’t, but _man_ , she just...she can’t help it.

By the time Chloe returns, Beca is awkwardly shoving her remaining items into her suitcase. She chooses not to meet Chloe’s eyes, but she can hear her moving around the room. She hears Chloe perch down onto the edge of the bed, and she hears the soft sigh to escape Chloe’s lips shortly after. Still, Beca does not meet her gaze.

“You know it’s okay, right?” Chloe finally says into the awkward silence.

Beca’s teeth sink down into her lower lip, eyes closing momentarily. She wants to say that she knows, that they did nothing wrong last night. In fact, what they did was _right_ , it was what they were supposed to do. They were supposed to wind up wrapped in each other’s arms, lips fighting against one another’s in a display of pent up passion and utter need. Instead, though, Beca gently shakes her head, murmuring a small, “Chlo, can we just...can we not?”

“Okay,” Chloe agrees quietly. There is a hint of disappointment in her tone, one that Beca tries hard to ignore, but that in reality she really cannot blame her for.

She hears Chloe stand from the bed, hears the springs of the mattress twist slightly beneath her. It is the exact opposite of last night’s scene, of last night’s unbridled passion. The awkwardness is misplaced and unnecessary, but Beca can’t do anything to lift it.

“I’m gonna go pack,” Chloe explains, and while Beca is still not looking her way, she can hear her light footsteps heading toward the door. She pauses briefly, almost as if inwardly battling with something, before quietly saying, “I wish I knew what you wanted, Bec.”

 _You_ , Beca wants to say. _I want you. I’ve wanted you for the longest time, and I have no idea why I’m ruining this right now. Don’t go. Stay, stay and we can talk. We can figure this out._

She wants to say it. She almost says it, in fact.

But in the end she just...she just doesn’t.

* * *

So, Beca has not been sleeping, not since the following day when they touched down in New York and Chloe explained that she was going to stay with Stacie for a couple days. There have been a few text messages exchanged, in which Chloe has explained that the idea of sharing a bed with Beca is weird to her when Beca apparently can’t even look at her, when Beca _still_ doesn’t know what she wants. It is understandable, all things considered.

Beca has asked her to come home, but it has been two weeks now; two weeks since Beca kissed Chloe in a hotel room on the other side of the ocean, two weeks since their awkward flight home in which Beca refused to acknowledge the passionate night they’d shared. It has been two weeks since Beca has even seen Chloe, so naturally, Beca cannot sleep.

At this point, it seems stupid to even continue trying. Amy went to bed a while ago, and the room around Beca is cloaked with a veil of eerie darkness. The soft sound of late night New York traffic buzzes by the window, almost a comfort to her by this point, and Beca lays wide awake in the gentle quiet, staring absentmindedly up at the ceiling.

She doesn’t know what time it is, doesn’t even think to check her phone. In fact, Beca has been avoiding that as much as possible lately. It is a cruel and unusual form of torture, waiting for a text message or phone call from Chloe, one that never actually comes. So, avoiding her phone is easier. Apparently, though, she is not going to be sleeping anytime soon, so a warm, relaxing shower feels like something of a good idea. Maybe the steam will help or something, she doesn’t know. Regardless, it beats laying here, drowning in her own thoughts.

As it turns out, the shower really doesn’t do much to help. Beca barely even registers the feeling of the water trickling over her skin. There is something almost zombie-like about the way she stands beneath the flowing stream, then eventually steps lazily from the all-in-one shower and bathtub to retrieve a fresh towel.

The absorbent fabric feels soft as it wraps around her body, so much so that she is in no hurry to change just yet. Instead, Beca just stares at her tired features in the bathroom mirror, studying the dark circles beneath her eyes.

She is so deep in thought, in fact, so lost in scrutinizingly staring at herself, that the sound of her name coming from the next room causes her to jump.

“Beca?” Amy’s sleepy voice buzzes through the air. “Is that you?”

Beca’s nose wrinkles, now annoyed at herself for waking her sleeping roommate. Just because Beca apparently doesn’t know her way to dreamland these days doesn’t mean Amy should suffer, too. “Yeah,” she calls back, apologetic tone lacing her voice. “Couldn’t sleep, I was just taking a shower.”

“Alright,” Amy’s muffled voice calls back. There is a brief pause, before Amy continues helpfully. “We have melatonin in the bathroom, you know? Try some of that.”

If possible, Beca avoids medication. The idea of sleep aids, even natural ones, kind of freak her out. But, it has just been so long since she has gotten a decent night’s sleep that the proposition really doesn’t seem like such a bad one right now.

With a twisted frown, Beca reaches into the drawer beneath the sink, rummaging around blindly for a moment, before finally pulling out what she assumes is the aforementioned bottle of melatonin. Without giving herself the chance to hesitate, Beca twists off the cap to tip out a single gummy into her palm, eyeing it for a moment, before eventually tossing it carelessly into her mouth.

It is not until she turns the bottle in her fingers to read the recommended dosage that Beca actually sees the name on the label.

“Uh, Ames?” Beca calls toward Amy’s bedroom, words slightly muffled by the half-chewed gummy. Her brows tug together tightly, eyes still down on the bottle’s label. “What are _Truth Gummies_?”

“Exactly what they say,” Amy’s tired voice calls back through to her. Beca registers the sound of shuffling, before Amy is appearing at the bathroom door. Beca glances toward her with a quizzical expression, bottle in hand. Nonchalantly, Amy motions toward the gummies. “Truth gummies. They show you your truth,” she shrugs, as if explaining the most obvious thing in the world, “What you really want to see. You know?”

Evidently ignoring the incredulous expression on Beca’s face, Amy makes her way casually into the bathroom. “You nearly done in here? I’m up now, gotta pee.”

Quietly, Beca scoffs. “Okay, you can wait one more minute, let me at least get out of here first,” she frowns, eyeing the bottle a moment longer. Amy is apparently paying no amount of attention to her, and proceeds to head toward the toilet.

“Truth gummies,” Beca murmurs, glancing down at the bottle again, “Bullshit.” Regardless, she tips a handful into her palm, all of which are tossed into her mouth in one go, before Beca sets the bottle down on the counter. “Alright then,” she mumbles quietly to her skeptical reflection, turning on her heel to leave the bathroom, “Show me what I really want.”

* * *

Apparently, Beca realizes as she blinks herself awake into a room still covered in darkness, ‘truth gummies’ must contain melatonin, because Beca doesn’t even remember falling asleep. The blackness surrounding her tells her that it is still night time, but she has managed to get at least an hour or two in, which is a feat for her really.

It is the sound of a loud conversation between two strangers taking place outside of her window that rouses Beca back to consciousness, and Beca responds with an annoyed groan. Inhaling deeply through her nose, Beca grips onto the edge of the comforter, tugging it upward until she has buried herself entirely beneath it, head and all. While it muffles the outside conversation, it is not enough to drown it out completely.

“Are you serious?” Beca groans under her breath, pulling the covers more tightly around herself. The petulant whine she lets out as she emerges from her protective nest could be likened to a child not getting their way, but Beca is too tired to care.

Given her sleeping pattern over the last two weeks, it is wishful thinking, the idea that she will manage to fall asleep for the second time in one night. So, Beca chooses not to even torture herself, and instead finally peels herself from she and Chloe’s bed, distinctly much too empty lately, to trudge toward the bathroom.

Quietly, she can hear Amy snoring in her bedroom, the door cracked open slightly. And Beca is tired, she’s really, _really_ tired, but she knows it is not in her imagination when she hears the quiet flick of the light switch in the bathroom, followed immediately by light peeking from beneath the gap in the door. It stops her in her tracks, causes her to retreat slightly as she contemplates the phantom movement behind the bathroom door.

“What the…” Beca stills, ears pricking at the sound of another snore flowing from behind Amy’s bedroom door.

This is an old building—a cheap one, too; it is not entirely impossible that there is a fault with the lights. It certainly would not be the first issue they have had with this apartment, after all. Beca almost has herself convinced that she is not entirely crazy as she edges toward the door, before the whispered sound of her name has her practically jumping out of her skin.

Beca pauses, wondering if it is all in her head. Her brows tug together as she stares at the closed bathroom door, heart hammering hard inside of her chest.

 _“Pssst…”_ The whispered sound comes again. Beca’s eyes widen in response. _“Beca.”_

There is something familiar about the voice, in spite of its uncharacteristically quiet volume. A part of Beca wants to run, to grab Amy and get the hell out of this creepy ass apartment. In spite of herself, though, of her better judgment, Beca feels her feet carrying her slowly toward the door. Her fingers twitch as they outstretch to grasp the handle, and despite everything inside of her telling her to run, Beca forgets how to breathe—and evidently how to act rationally—as she slowly tugs open the door.

The sight she is met with, familiar and non-threatening, causes her jaw to slacken. Beca’s mouth hangs open in disbelief as she takes in the image of Chloe standing before her, dressed in the same all black outfit she had worn the night of Beca’s performance. Her hair is curled to perfection and flows neatly over her shoulders. The expression on her face is almost apologetic, almost guilty somehow, and Beca just stares, just tries to digest what she is seeing.

Finally, she swallows thickly, blinking once. “...Chloe?”

Somewhat sheepishly, Chloe clasps her hands in front of her middle, head nodding gently. She doesn’t say anything, so Beca continues to stare, to blink at the impossible sight before her.

Okay, so it’s not _impossible_ ; this is Chloe’s apartment, too. There is no reason she can’t be here right now, no reason she couldn’t have decided to finally come home. But there is just something so...so _unbelievable_ about all of this, about the vision of Chloe standing before her, so ethereal and put together.

Beca finds her voice again, at least partially. “What are you…” She trails off. “It’s the middle of the night—”

Chloe’s shoulder shrugs gently, that same sympathetic look plastered across her pale face. Her voice is soft yet sure as she speaks. “Guess we know what you really want now.”

Beca opens her mouth to speak again, to ask an abrupt and incredulous _what?_ , but nothing comes out. She notes the way Chloe’s brows tug neatly together, takes in the expression of questioning on her face.

“Beca?” Chloe says, head tilting slightly. When Beca doesn’t respond, and instead just continues to stare blankly, Chloe repeats her name, an air of concern lacing her tone.

A sharp shove to her shoulder is what eventually shakes Beca back to the present.

“Beca?” Amy says, staring down at her with a wrinkled nose.

Beca blinks, panicking momentarily, before pushing herself quickly upright. She feels the mattress beneath her, feels the weight of the comforter over the top of her body.

“Whoa, bad dream?” Amy questions, mouth twisting into a frown.

All Beca does is stare, attempting to properly register her surroundings. It is still dark out, she is sitting in her bed with a sharp wave of confusion flowing throughout her. So much so that she doesn’t even speak, she just stares at Amy in horror.

“Well, at least you’re not dead,” Amy says with a less than concerned shrug. She seems to relax slightly, and Beca finds that she is now even more confused somehow.

Momentarily, she finds her voice, whispering a hissed out, _“What?”_

Frown twisting back onto her face, Amy glances down at the bottle held in her hand. “I got up to use the bathroom, and I found these out by the sink. Did you take any? They’re super expired.”

Beca’s bleary gaze drifts to the bottle of melatonin gummies in Amy’s hand.

“I mean, they’re like, all natural or whatever,” Amy shrugs, reading absentmindedly over the label. “They probably wouldn’t actually hurt you, but I just wanted to check.”

Beca is still struggling to register what is going on. Hastily, her gaze shifts toward the bathroom. The door is open, light switched on. “Who’s in…”

“No one,” Amy says, glancing toward the bathroom door, before turning her attention back toward Beca again. “I was just peeing, then I saw these and wanted to make sure you were okay…” Her brows tug together, finally registering the expression on Beca’s face. “Uh, _are_ you okay?”

“I don’t…” Beca begins slowly, though cuts herself off. Her head is spinning, eyes fixated on the bathroom door. Quickly, Beca begins to push the comforter away, swinging her legs until she can plant her feet down on the floor. Her body may be tired, but her voice is stronger now, more determined. “I have to do something.”

“What?” Amy questions with another deep frown. “Beca, it’s four in the morning. What do you have to do?”

“Yeah?” Beca questions, though she isn’t really listening. Instead, she is shuffling toward the pile of shoes by the front door and slipping her feet hastily into the first matching pair she comes across. Beca heads to the kitchen area in search of her keys, leaving Amy to stare at her in confusion.

“What are you _doing_?”

“I just...I know what I—” Beca shakes her head, cutting herself off mid-thought. “There’s just something I have to do.”

“What? Beca—” Amy’s words really do not register, nor have any kind of impact, because by now, Beca is already pulling her sweater more tightly around herself and closing the door.

Chloe’s words echo through her mind as Beca descends the stairs in pursuit of the building’s exit:

 _Guess we know what you really want now_.

As usual, Chloe is right.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi [this is me](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com)!


End file.
